


Trial and Error

by voiceless_terror



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: And its their first night in the same bed, Chaos Ensues, Fluff, Jon Tim and Martin are Dating, Jon and Martin are not good sleeping partners, M/M, Multi, fully self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29931783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror
Summary: And if Martin sleeps like the dead, Jon does the opposite. It’s not that he’s woken up at all, no, but he’s constantly rolling around, climbing on top of them at strange and uncomfortable angles. Tim wouldn’t mind the clinging so much if he didn’t change position every fifteen minutes with a jab of his pointy elbows.In which Martin and Jon sleepover and Tim struggles.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 21
Kudos: 131





	Trial and Error

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinnamoniic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamoniic/gifts).



> happy birthday to cinna, who blesses the tma fandom with their wonderful art!! i think about your john mulaney tma animatic every ten minutes!!!

Tim is very, very happy to have his boyfriends over for the night.

It’s their first overnight and he’s looking forward to falling asleep in Martin’s arms and cuddling up close to Jon, whatever happens first. And that’s why he’s placed himself right between the two, Jon lying on the side of the bed against the wall and Martin insisting on the edge ‘in case I get up in the night, don’t want to wake anyone up, you need your rest.’ Ever the gentleman.

But it’s been three hours and not once has Martin made any motion to get up. In fact, he’d fallen asleep almost two minutes after they got situated, sprawled on his back and dead to the world. Tim’s glad Martin can sleep so deeply, he deserves it with the hours he’s pulling. But he’s not very happy about the sounds he makes while doing it.

Martin snores. Tim does too, as he’s been told by previous partners, but Martin’s like a goddamn motorboat. It’s _deafening._ He refuses to wake him and inform him of this fact, though he wishes Martin had warned him ahead of time. Tim doesn’t want to make him feel bad, but it’s getting to be a bit of a problem. It’s not steady enough to be a comforting white noise, as it occasionally turns into whistles or crescendos into loud roars. Martin’s got range.

And if Martin sleeps like the dead, Jon's the exact opposite. It’s not that he’s woken up at all, no, but he’s constantly rolling around, climbing on top of them at strange and uncomfortable angles. Tim wouldn’t mind the clinging so much if he didn’t change position every fifteen minutes with a jab of his pointy elbows.

He also _talks._

It’s all nonsense, of course. Snarky little noises, as if he can’t stop being a little shit even as he sleeps. Sometimes it's a steady stream of enthusiastic mumbling, like his sleepy equivalent of an info-dump. Tim hopes he’s got a captive audience in his dreams.

He murmurs something directly in Tim’s ear, having burrowed himself in the crook of Tim’s neck five minutes prior. After imparting this wisdom, he rolls back over to face the wall. 

“You’ve got a point, buddy. He _is_ loud.” Tim sighs, staring up at the ceiling, when a thought occurs to him.

Maybe if Jon’s got a Martin to distract him, he won’t be so bothersome. Martin seems to be a heavy sleeper, and won’t be woken by Jon’s nocturnal gymnastics. With this in mind, he very carefully scoots to the bottom of the bed and reaches for Jon, half dragging, half carrying him closer to Tim’s previous position. Jon immediately clings on to Martin, throwing himself diagonally over his chest with a happy little noise. Martin doesn’t wake. _Perfect._ Tim shimmies over to Jon’s spot, his back to the wall as he closes his eyes to finally get some rest.

Until Jon’s leg kicks back and hits Tim directly in the stomach. He yelps and struggles to catch his breath, glaring at his two blissfully unaware companions. Jon snuggles into Martin’s arms and the snores reach a new crescendo. _This is hell._

Tim tries, he really does. He spends the next thirty minutes curled as far into the corner as he can manage, he puts the pillow over his head. But nothing drowns out the noise and Jon still intermittently kicks at his back, albeit gentler than before.

He truly loves the two of them, more than he ever thought possible. Tim reminds himself of this as Martin attempts to break the sound barrier and Jon puts on a one-man show of _Riverdance_ against his back. But he’s got to get some fucking _sleep._

He considers waking the two of them and voicing his complaints. It’s not unreasonable; hell, Tim would want to know if he were the offending party. But he can’t bear the thought of Martin’s guilty little face, and he knows Jon will use it as an excuse to stay up the rest of the night. He _could_ just slip into the living room, but that’ll just cause a fuss come morning. No, it’s time to do some strategic maneuvering. It’ll be difficult, but Tim thinks he can pull it off without waking the two. And he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

Tim squirms down to the edge of the bed, flipping Jon’s pliant body back to its previous position. He almost falls out of bed when Jon surprises him with an emphatic _“Recording ends!”_ but he quiets after that, curling into a ball.

“Good job, bossman.” A nickname he can only use when Jon can’t hear. He’s not too fond of it, now that they’re dating. Tim still thinks it’s cute. 

Now for the hard part. For this one, he’ll have to get out of bed entirely.

As he looms over Martin, Tim tries to figure out the best way to go about this. He gives him a gentle, experimental shove but Martin’s dead weight and does _not_ want to move, stubborn even in sleep and now snoring louder in what seems like protest. Tim pushes back the sleeves of his sleep shirt, shakes out his arms. _This is why you lift, Stoker. You can do this_. A second push: the man budges a few inches, but there’s still not enough room for Tim to slip in. Martin’s always been stronger than him, much to his chagrin, and he’s never beaten him in arm wrestling. He’s built like a brick house, albeit much comfier. But Tim will not let him win in his _sleep._ That’s just ridiculous, not to mention embarrassing. So he lets out a grunt and gives it his best shot, the push finally managing to get Martin completely on his side.

And directly on top of Jon.

“Shit!” Tim swears, immediately jumping on the bed at Jon’s muffled squeak, his hands starting to pull Martin back when what little he sees of Jon suddenly relaxes, his face going slack. Tim briefly worries he’s killed him but Jon is in fact breathing, an utterly content look on his face as if all he needed to settle was the pressure of Martin’s arm and half of his body. Tim laughs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair when he notices the sudden quiet.

Martin’s stopped snoring. Not entirely, no, but after a minute of hovering over the man, he hears only the lightest of occasional wheezes. _God, I’m a fucking_ genius. He almost wishes someone had been around to see it. He’s debating taking a picture and sending it to Sasha when he glances at the clock- two am. If he wants to wake up slightly rested, and in time to try Martin’s much-lauded pancakes, he’s going to have to cut his celebrations short.

So he climbs back into bed, attaching himself to the large, warm expanse of Martin’s back and burying his face in the softness of his worn sleep shirt. _This_ is how it’s supposed to be, cozy and comfortable and quiet. Just took a bit of trial and error. 

Now to see if it’ll last til morning.

At eight, Martin wakes everyone with a shriek upon finding Jon buried underneath him and takes both Tim and himself off the bed with the force of his backpedaling. They land with a painful thump, Tim swearing as his abused back takes the brunt of the fall. Jon peers sleepily over the edge of the bed and gives the two of them a pleased smile, stretching like a cat basking in sunlight.

“Don’t think I’ve slept better in my life,” he yawns, blinking slowly. “What are you two doing down there?”

“A-are you serious?” Martin stutters, still tangled in the sheets and making no move to get up. Tim can’t help his snicker. “I-I was _completely_ on top of you-”

“We should do that more often,” Jon agrees. “I like having you on top of me.”

It takes Martin about an hour to recover from that statement and around the same time for Jon to realize what he said. And Tim, well, Tim’s just happy to finally get some sleep.

And Martin’s pancakes. He really wasn’t kidding about those.

**Author's Note:**

> This is all a bunch of ridiculous fluff, I know. Apologies. But it's been an angst fest in canon, and this is the only way I know how to counter it. Hope you enjoyed, you can find me @voiceless-terror on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
